Memories of chameleons on a snowy Ohio day

Lee Elliott TimesReporter.com correspondent

Wednesday

Nov 28, 2018 at 12:30 AM

The first snow in our town always makes me think of the snowbirds who fly to Florida for the winter, which makes me think of my former in-laws, who lived there all winter, which brings up the memory of the unusual gifts they used to bring our children when they returned home.

If you have never kept a chameleon in your kitchen, you have been missing out on one of life’s great adventures. Before you race to call the health department, hear me out. We have a history here. When my sister and I were very young, our brother won us each a chameleon at the county fair. I believe they inadvertently drowned because we kept dipping them in water to give them a drink. Years later we learned the little creatures have to absorb their water through their skin

During WWII we lived on an Army base in New Orleans and kept chameleons loose in the house to ward off the black widow spiders that hid in dark corners. With all that history and familiarity, I could hardly turn one away when he arrived at our house, abducted from a Florida screen door, victim of a hand quicker than a chameleon, and having survived a three-day ride in a used mustard jar. We named him Traveler.

The book from the pet store said he would be happy in a plastic terrarium, with moistened colorful gravel, and that he would weekly consume insects, worms and fruit, offered on the end of a toothpick. Nowhere in the midst of our great menagerie could we find even one fly, worm moth or mosquito that was not, in all probability, spending its vacation time in Florida. We feared he might starve to death.

The local vet offered that he might be perked up with a few drops of honey, and sure enough, we soon had a thriving, fruit eating chameleon. Sweets were nearly his demise. I found a cherry sucker in the cupboard, and the idea of a lollipop tree was just too cute to pass up. I stuck it in the gravel, and shortly, Traveler’s long tongue was at work, so I left him happily gorging himself with a nectar, no other chameleon has probably ever tasted. Half an hour later I found him pinned firmly on his back, by the even more firmly stuck lollipop, lying in the middle of his belly. Water removed the offending treat. Not only did he absorb his entire quota for a month, but he also immediately began to regard anything larger than a house fly, with a great deal of suspicion.

While the family grew fonder of Traveler, one household member did not. A loud crash brought me to friend cat, seated innocently on the floor next to an empty topless terrarium. A guilty cat that has just eaten a chameleon looks no different from an innocent cat that hasn’t. Still, I needed to search. Do you know how many square inches of house can be filled with six inches of chameleon? I retrieved horrible things from under the refrigerator and stove, but no Traveler.

By bedtime that evening, we had to admit that the little lizard was probably gone, and the good night prayers were all about our poor lost little guy. Losing a pet is hard on anyone. I was relieved a little later when my attention was diverted by a neighbor, who was definitely not descended from a long line of animal lovers. Her first shriek brought all four kids from their beds. The woman had been absently perusing a magazine beside her chair with her fingers as we chatted, and there, she found Traveler.

What is one lost neighbor weighed against one found chameleon? We had Traveler back, with nothing worse to show for his adventure than the loss of his tail (the book said he would grow it back) and a beautiful scarlet dewlap that bloomed vigorously from his throat to show us how he felt about all this attention.

For my part, I braided a macramé harness for the terrarium, taped its lid and hung it from the ceiling. I was thankful that no one had brought the kids a baby alligator as a gift. Alligators eat cats.

Funny memories are a good thing to collect. They brighten a gray snowy Ohio day.

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